Sidamo really enjoyed the water, with Daddy's company and reassurance. Nora enjoyed the water under no conditions. We started off at the bay side of the island, which has calmer water and a more kid-friendly appeal.
So she's a land-lubber, for now at least. As you can tell from my burka, we're not exactly a sunbathing breed.
(left to right) My uncle, Bernard; me and Nora; Meaghan and George; Greg and Sidamo. Don't those clouds look painted in?
What a brave boy—they're only in about two feet of water, but he clung to his dad like they were in the middle of the ocean.
Catherine and George were perfect hosts, allowing all sorts of toy-stealing from Sidamo and fussy crying from Nora. George decided that music might help quell Nora's cries, and he serenaded her quite beautifully with the ABCs. Catherine has a magic touch—every time she holds the baby, Nora melts into peacefulness.
My cousin Patrick, the only Republican I'll allow to hold my daughter. (Just kidding—Bernard and Pat can hold her too.) To be fair, Patrick self-identifies as a Libertarian, but as he says, the general public can't tell the difference between between a Republican and a Libertarian, just as he can't tell the difference between a Democrat and a Communist.)
At the ocean, where, after some hesitation, Sidamo discovered his real love of water. He thought the waves were pretty fantastic (still in Daddy's arms, of course). He also loved making sand castles, though, in his characteristic noncompliance, he refused to used wet sand, insisting that dry sand works much better.
The Sand and Water Series
Nora spent most of her time bundled and in someone's arms (in this case, my aunt Pat).
As I said, a lovely, lovely week. If it weren't for the nightmare of air travel, we'd do it more often. But oh, the nightmare. Our flight out was supposed to be at 8 last night, so we took the ferry to the van to the train to the other train to the airport, only to learn our flight was delayed three and a half hours due to weather. We crammed ourselves into the sardine-tight JetBlue terminal, where there literally wasn't a seat—I had to sit on the floor to nurse Nora—and settled in to wait for the now 11:20 departure. In the entire four-plus hours we sat there, not a single flight left or landed, and lots of flights were being canceled. We didn't hear any updates on our flight, so at about 10:30 I checked online from my phone to see whether we were further delayed and learned that the flight had been canceled. Apparently that's not the kind of thing you need to announce to all the people sitting and waiting for the flight. Anyway, we then waited in a 45-minute line for a cab, got to my sister's apartment in the city at around midnight (luckily she happened to be there and not in Fire Island), and had to get up again at 5 a.m. to catch our rescheduled flight.
We were all as cranky as you might imagine, and Sidamo had some belly issues to boot. Those resulted in our flight being somewhat delayed when Sidamo had to make a bathroom trip right as we were supposed to be pulling away from the gate. Later on he vomited all over the bathroom floor. Still later, as we were landing, he decided he had to poop at a time that we absolutely could not leave our seats, so he broke down in tears screaming, "I have to go caca! I have to go caca!" The folks in the neighboring seats looked (rightfully) terrified. Of course, when we landed and offered to take Sidamo to the toilet, he looked at us like we were crazy and said, "I don't have to go caca."
We're all home safe, though, and after some sleep we're feeling much better. Sidamo and I had a fantastic conversation at bed time:
Me: You're such a good boy Sidamo. I love you.
Sidamo: Daddy's a big boy.
Me: Yes, Daddy's a big boy. He's a man.
Sidamo: Daddy's a good man.
Me: Yep, he's a good man.
Sidamo: And Mommy's a good Deirdre.
I couldn't agree more, kiddo.